


Is There Any Machine You Can't Charm?

by psybrepunk



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Established Relationship, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Love Bites, M/M, No Dick Nick, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Robot Kink, Robot Sex, Robot/Human Relationships, Smut, Wire Play
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:01:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26000809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psybrepunk/pseuds/psybrepunk
Summary: Gender-neutral Sole Survivor convinces the synthetic detective that you don't need any specific equipment to have fun.  Eventually prompting Nick to confess that there's some special ways in which he's enjoyed being maintenanced by the Sole Survivor prior.  Guided experimentation ensues.
Relationships: Nick Valentine/Reader, Nonbinary Sole Survivor/Nick Valentine, Sole Survivor & Nick Valentine, Sole Survivor/Nick Valentine
Comments: 17
Kudos: 95





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Part 1 of what is literally just my self-indulgent ass needing an outlet for my all-consuming Nick Valentine love. This mechanical man is my hyperfixation currently and I recently discovered wireplay as a concept so that's where this is ultimately leading. Comments and whatnot are beyond appreciated, of course. But be nice to me, these Nick fics I'm working on are the first thing I've written in roughly a decade.  
> (I'm also working on a fluff - no smut - fic that occurs before this. THIS fic assumes that Nick and Sole have been together for a bit but have done nothing except kissing up to this point.)

"Darling, I know you - you say you want this, but I'm. . . I'm just a body in tatters. You don't… you don't want what's under all this." Nick Valentine gestured vaguely to his attire, which at this moment was just his brown slacks, leather suspenders, stained but still somewhat white dress shirt, navy tie and whatever lay beneath these layers. "Really, doll." He sounded melancholy, compunctious. "I know you think you want this, but, I'm just a broken robot. A shell. How would you even - "

I placed my index finger upon his marred lips delicately, and he immediately quit speaking, his self-deprecating stream of consciousness grinding to a halt. "Nick. Listen to me for a moment. Number one - I've seen what's under all of this. How many tune-ups and repairs have I given you?" Too many to count. Yet the sight of the old synth sans any of his usual getup never excited me any less. "And number two. I know exactly what I want. I want you. Exactly the way you are. I don't care what condition you're in. You're exactly my kind of handsome, anyways." Attempting to offer an encouraging smile, I caressed his face, my thumb running from the harsh dip below his cheekbone to the ragged edge of his chin. "I just care whether you want me, too." Though I was beginning to really doubt myself. Had I been far too forward? Was I completely ruining the tentatively romantic relationship we had been building? I bit harshly into my lower lip out of stress. I was beginning to shake.

A low gravelly sigh, then his lips met mine. "Of course I do," he murmured against my mouth, holding me tighter to his wonderfully warm abdomen. It was a brisk autumn in Maine, and the fog in Far Harbor didn't contribute positively to the chill. I was shivering lightly, but I calmed as I warmed against him.

Eventually I broke away to breathe properly and he took the moment to speak.

"I just - I can't exactly give you what you need."

"And what is it that you're so convinced that I need?" I cocked an eyebrow, suddenly irritated by his implication.

Another sigh. "Christ, doll, are you going to make me say it?" I could hear a new fan kick on inside him - a gen 2 synth's version of blushing.

"Nicky, stop treating me like I don't know what I'm getting myself into. I'm very well aware of what you are and aren't equipped with, if that's what you're referring to."

"And this doesn't matter to you?"

"Why on earth should it?"

"Hm." A series of emotions crossed his features. It seemed as if he hadn't considered or anticipated this outcome. Then he looked me in the eyes, and touched my face ever so softly with his intact hand; I leaned my cheek into his cool palm. "I love you, you know that?" He graced me with that crooked little smile that I so adored.

"I love you too." I kissed Nick again; I truly could not get enough of feeling his silicone lips. "And if you'll let me, I intend to figure out how to make love to you."


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sole survivor gets to begin exploring Nick the way they've wanted to for so long.

I could hear three distinct fans kick on, one by one suddenly inside Valentine's chassis, and I found myself smiling without meaning to. I appreciated the nocturnal silence of our little shack on Longfellow's island, for letting me pick up on the small auditory tells of my beloved android's involuntary reactions. The synthetic skin of his jaw and neck beneath my fingertips warmed to the touch as his system attempted to vent some of the rising heat from his core processors. He was either blushing, or becoming increasingly excited. Granted I guess there was no reason it couldn't be both. 

I continued tentatively caressing his face, fixated on touching any bit of him that I was allowed, as my other hand moved to loosen his tie. 

Suddenly the sensation of cool metal upon my knuckles. I guess I had been fumbling awkwardly for too long with his tie knot as he moved my hand and completed the task for me. He was always good about trying to step in and compensate for my eternally shaky hands, despite one of his being entirely devoid of tactile sensors.

Tie removed, I began slowly undoing each button of his discolored dress shirt, as our lips still gingerly explored each other. Nick's grey lips were rough and scarred, but his kisses were soft. By the last button, I pushed the dress shirt as well as his suspenders over his shoulders, letting the shirt drop to the floor. 

I set to scouring his synthetic skin, as if I were trying to see every square inch of exposed artificial flesh with just my fingertips. I had seen Nick at this level of undress on plenty of occasions, but until now never with the ability to just touch him like I wanted to. 

The expanse of Nick's abdominal panelling was not at all the same texture as his intact hand or his face. While these portions of his skin were rough and weathered from over a century of being exposed to the elements, the largely untarnished silicone composite surface of his chest was quite smooth. Wonderfully so, really. I guess this was the benefit of a robot wearing so many layers of clothing on a daily basis. 

I ran my palms across the panels that imitated pectoral muscles. His chest and abdominal plates were largely intact, if moderately frayed at the seams. I avoided the occasional bullet hole, not knowing how his nervous system processed sensations on permanent wounds.

Despite having no real requirement to, his chest flexed with slow, deliberate inhalations; quite a contrast to my ragged heart rate and breathing. I had often wondered why the Institute would construct an android with a functional pulmonary system, but the incredible warmth of his breath on my cheek told me it must have been a system to vent excessive heat. I could feel a myriad of small motors vibrating beneath his pectoral plate, fans desperately attempting to keep him cool. He quite literally thrummed with anticipation under my palms.

I leaned forward and delicately kissed the damaged seam that connected what was left of his throat to his collarbone. Nick shuddered and huffed quietly; I immediately regretted the decision, concerned that I had overstimulated some tender nerves. "I'm sorry, love. Are you okay?" I inquired, a hand turning his chin to bring glowing golden eyes to mine. 

"What? Yes. That felt...quite good," he stammered, and I took a mental note that Nick huffing gently was not a negative sign. Relieved that I hadn't initiated any unpleasant sensation, I pressed my lips back to the contouring suggestive of a collarbone, planting soft kisses along the dip that ran vertically down the center of his chest plate. 

My hands circled the old synth's waist and pulled him closer to me; I felt like I couldn't be close enough. This seemed to ignite some additional passion in him as my face was suddenly being cradled in rough, cool palms and his lips found mine with urgency. My eyes fluttered closed, and my hands came up to delicately caress the seams that ran horizontally along his sides, between where a ribcage and iliac crests would have been in a human, avoiding a large chasm over one of his hips. Nick's entire body trembled in response, and I couldn't help myself from grinning against his lips. I had spent far too much of my time wondering how to physically please this mechanical man, and I was ecstatic that it seemed so far I was finding some success. 

Nick's hands moved from my jawline to caress my shoulder blades. "This feels a little inequal," he murmured. He made no motion to pressure me to action, but I knew what he meant. I freed each button of my own - admittedly much whiter - dress shirt (Kellogg's heavy but useful limb actuator was already shed on the floor next to the bed). Nick made the small motion to remove the shirt from my shoulders, leaving me in an undershirt only. Somehow I felt we were equal at this point. He was, in a way, still wearing a layer, I thought to myself as I eyed the discolored seams of his chassis. 

"It's been a long day. Why don't we sit down?" With a palm flat on his cadaverously ashen chest, I prompted Nick toward the couch in our temporary dwelling. Nick's lack of questioning me taking charge was satisfying and relieving. By no means did I always need it to be this way, but this was comfortable for a start. 

"As you wish." The synthetic detective took a seat, and I placed a knee on either side of his hips, straddling him. Nick's lap was anything but soft, and I was glad that the size differential between the two of us was not so vast that I couldn't lightly hover over his thighs. His hands immediately found my waist and coaxed me closer against his body, his lips - and suddenly his teeth - finding the sensitive flesh of my neck. My breath hitched audibly as metal - at least they felt metal - dentures scraped the junction between my neck and shoulder, sending a completely involuntary shiver down my spine. "Hmmm." The gravelly hum of his voice was music to my ears. "You like that, do you?"

I didn't need to reply in words as his teeth closing on the flesh beneath my jawline drew a quiet but emphatic gasp from my throat. Clearly encouraged by my reaction, he bit down further and I mewled a little, eyes threatening to roll back in my head. I had only ever been afforded the opportunity to kiss and embrace my beloved partner prior to this evening, and as a result my brain was quickly numbing from the sheer intensity of anticipations materialized. 

"You can bite harder," I breathed.

"A greedy little minx, huh," Nick rumbled, lips roving from my neck from my ear, and brushing my helix with his sharper teeth, sending another involuntary shiver through me. "Just how ravished are you trying to look?" He sounded mildly amused.

"Doesn't matter." My lips brushed the weathered synthetic surface of Nick's cheekbone. "I don't bruise that easily."

"I know factually that that is not true. I've seen you wrestle with Dogmeat and have green bruises for almost a week."

"You can make me some purple ones then."

The synth's brows knitted together then flicked upward a bit in what I assumed to be surprise. "Wow, darlin', I didn't quite peg you for a masochist."

"Only a little." Had I the confidence enough to be honest, I would tell him that I primarily just cherished the notion of going anywhere, the sharply-dressed synthetic detective on my arm, wearing the marks of his fervent, heady attention to my flesh. 

I leaned in and captured his lips in mine once more. All of this talk made me realize that I was swiftly allowing myself to stray off track, regarding my initial intentions. Nick's mouth was rough, warm and intoxicating but I could explore those potentials another time. Right now was just about him. 

"Hey, Valentine?" I purred. 

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"So, I know that early generation synths can feel the spectrum of pain… You've mentioned that. That does mean you can feel an adequate spectrum of pleasure too, yes? I mean, your physical responses have indicated positive things thus far."

"My physical responses have indicated - Christ, you really know how to incorporate some romance, don't you?" 

I rolled my eyes then narrowed them, attempting to be playful but noticing that the somewhat sullen expression had creep back onto the synth's face. His eyes seemed sad and uncertain as he looked up at me. Not unlike many occasions prior when just allowing myself to get lost examining his face, I couldn't help but marvel at how complex of expressions his silicon face-plate allowed for. Especially regarding his eyes, and brows. 

"This is just a….an experiment to you, isn't it?" The edges of his mouth turned down - further than usual - and his brows knitted together. 

I was snapped back to reality, versus being lost in contemplation regarding his capacity for facial expression. The cold stress returned. Why did I have to word it like that? Why was I the one that seemed like an emotionless robot in this situation? 

"Nick, I have no idea what makes you tick, much less what makes you feel good. Yes, this is an experiment. Of course it is. I have no clue what to do with you. I have to figure it out as I go, or you have to tell me." I managed to stop before any more stress rambling spilled out of me. 

Nick said nothing. His lips parted like he wanted to say something, but he remained silent.

"Listen, I'm sorry. I love you, but maybe we're going too fast. I really did not wish to make you uncomfortable in any way," I said and shifted to remove myself from his lap, when Nick caught my elbow in his intact hand, not forcefully enough to hold me in place, but ample to persuade me from moving. 

"No. No, you're fine. This is just hard, alright? I've never, uh." He sighed deeply, and his eyes closed for a moment, punctuating his pause in speech. He appeared to readjust his thoughts. "No one has ever...wanted to do quite this much with me, before." I noted that he more easily over time referred to his experiences in terms of his present self, versus the experiences of a long-dead cop. Glowing golden halos regarded me pensively from beneath a scarred, furrowed grey brow. "Not that I haven't dated, but. This ol' mug's never gotten me very far, y'know." The bright clink of metal on metal as he tapped his exposed jaw for emphasis. He offered a very small unilateral smile. 

"I would say that's a shame, but I'm just glad to be the one that's with you for the long haul." I absent-mindedly stroked the shadowed hollow of his cheek. 

"Me too." Gradually his features began to soften and Nick started to appear some manner of pleased once more. 

"You realize you're handsome as hell right?" 

Nick made a noise somewhere in between a disbelieving scoff and a chuckle. "I count myself awfully lucky that you think so." His intact hand found the back of my head and pulled me in for a kiss. I relaxed against his warm silicone frame, the stress in me unraveling as his lips moved against mine and his stripped hand gently caressed my back over my undershirt. It almost tickled, he was so delicate with those bare metal fingertips. 

Without really thinking, I had idly returned to tracing the worn edges of Nick's chestplate. He kissed me with more fervor, and I found myself getting lost again, aware of very little past synthetic lips that tasted like smoke and the twang of copper. My hands curled against him involuntarily, nails inadvertently brushing tender seams, and a particularly deep hum came from the detective. It was no wonder that Nick had always been relatively standoffish about physical contact in the past. If I'd learned anything today, it was that this synth was far more sensitive than I would have expected. 

I decided to try running my nails ever so gently down the vertical seams that narrowed toward the bottom of his chest and widened again toward his hips. "Ahh - mm." My brain felt numb with every small noise he made against my mouth. Around the time I was nearing the top of his thighs, Nick broke away and rested his forehead against mine. It was intriguing to me how breathless his rumbling voice could sound without any need for breath. A past life's impressions left over to express such a build-up of internal energy, perhaps. "So, there is something we can try, by the way, it's just going to take a little explaining."

My brows perked upward. "I'm listening, my love."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I'm aware that I can't seem to hold a tone to save my life. Be nice to me. I don't know what I was thinking with all this, this is just the stuff that goes through my brain. 
> 
> We're getting around to the wireplay soon I swear.


End file.
